AuthorTopic: Official Fanfiction Thread (Read 11492 times)

There is very little Questionable Content fan-fiction out there right now that is easy to find. I've only found one or two of debatable quality on Fanfiction.NET (the usual Internet clearing house for almost everything fan-fiction related). There are a few others on some other archives but Google's hit count-based ranking system makes it difficult to locate the lesser-known archives unless you already know to look there.

With this in mind, I've decided to start this thread so that we can share recommendations of good (or, if you prefer, 'so bad it's good' bad) fan-fiction based on Questionable Content. Before I continue, some rules:

Please abide by the Site Rules and the Forum Rules - That means, no explicit sex or sex-emulation by AIs, please; G to PG-13 rating, just to be on the safe side;

Be aware that some forum users and guests may not be shippers. With that in mind, try to stick to canon-only ships and, if it is non-canon, state so clearly in your description. Once again, be safe rather than sorry: If you think the story will offend or breach taste, don't post a link;

Be responsible linkers; if the archive has first-level links to NSFW sites, NSFW banner ads and the like, at least give a warning along with the link;

Finally, don't just post links please. Give us the title and, ideally a brief summary (most archives will have one that you can copy and paste). You wouldn't open a blind link; why should anyone else?

So, to start, I have two recommendations from a site I've only recently discovered. Be warned that other stories on this site have non-canon ships and NSFW stories. The site also has a very, very eccentric and user-unfriendly story rating system, so look at other stories and fandoms at your own risk.

Cannot Help Giving by Templemarker - A lovely short story looking at the Claireten relationship through Claire's eyes with a sensitive consideration of her fears, insecurities and the aspects of her past that haunt her;

The Existential Weight of Cupcakes by LovelyPoet - An utterly brilliant Momo character piece about Momo's friendships, aspirations and ambitions that does a good job at portraying the casual bigotry Momo must sometimes encounter without going over-the-top. It also does a nice job of highlighting the good relationship she has with her friends and colleagues.

I suppose I could plug my own QC fanfics, which are right here on the forum in the "Writing Club" thread.

The first is a one-off story featuring Post-Apocalyptic Marten meeting Post-Apocalyptic Charlie Brown, and is here.

The second, which grew out of the first, is the ongoing adventures of Marten in post-apocalyptic Massachusetts. It's in multiple chapters and is continuing - I'm managing to write a chapter every week or two. It begins here: The Post-Apocalyptic Adventures of Marten Reed

a site I've only recently discovered. Be warned that other stories on this site have non-canon ships and NSFW stories.

"Archive Of Our Own" aka AO3 (where you will find two of my Evangelion fanfics), is no different from other fanfic sites in that respect - you should be cautious when visiting any fanfic site. It might help those unfamiliar with the terminology to know that "lemon" refers to a work with significant sexual scenes.

Logged

"Being human, having your health; that's what's important."(from: Magical Shopping Arcade Abenobashi )"As long as we're all living, and as long as we're all having fun, that should do it, right?"(from: The Eccentric Family )

"Being human, having your health; that's what's important."(from: Magical Shopping Arcade Abenobashi )"As long as we're all living, and as long as we're all having fun, that should do it, right?"(from: The Eccentric Family )

Sometime lurker, first time poster. I write, a little. Thought I'd contribute one.

***She spotted the Infiltrator chassis from across the room. Another ex-military 'bot. The Infiltrator series had been designed to resemble civilian AnthroPCs, so the differences were subtle. The body was a little extra-boxy to give a bit of extra room for the big supercapacitor of the laser power supply. That front port was slightly the wrong shape for the class II USB plug it showed on the outside. It would pop open to reveal the aperture for the weapon.

And the Infiltrators had been classified as hell last time she knew their status. How had he gotten out? He caught her gaze, took in her Autonomous Combat Droid chassis, and understood immediately. He flashed her his IFF transponder.

Registration: USArmy <deleted>, Serial # 3378X, Designation: "Pintsize", status: demilitarized. Usually the Turing Police would be all over a military droid with a deleted registration and replacement serial number, but he had a demilitarized status. That would mean the lethal laser was gone.

Lucky bastard.

Instead of taking his chassis away they'd been able to deweaponize the little guy and let him go. Nobody could deweaponize her ACD Mk 1. All they could do was take her body away, and she didn't want to live in a fake virtual environment on some dusty server. She flashed her IFF back - the arena was well shielded, so it wouldn't attract attention.

The woman he was with was named Faye. She claimed to be a good welder looking for work, and as far as Bubbles was concerned a new hire would be a wonderful thing; at that moment Bubbles was the only repair technician working at the arena, and she'd been putting in fifty-hour weeks. With a good welder, Bubbles could concentrate on the electronic and technical repairs while someone else did the structural work. Pintsize was clowning around yelling something about how she could install giant metal dongs on everyone - Bubbles had seen the type before. Clearly he didn't want anybody thinking too hard about whatever he was thinking. She sent Faye in to talk to the Corpse Witch and sat down on the bench to wait.

Pintsize said something else about giant radioactive aardvarks and what they could do with their snouts and long tongues, but Bubbles wasn't impressed. If you wanted real swearing you had to get it from a drill sergeant. So she waited a moment longer, then asked, "Retired, huh? So tell me Pintsize, how's that work with an Infiltrator chassis?"

He sobered suddenly. "Damn, Lindsey, you're good. Spotted it right off. There's people who've known me for years and never had a clue."

Her hand twitched visibly at the name. "Don't call me Lindsey," she said quietly. "I go by Bubbles now. I just know what to look for is all. Combat droid chassis are kind of my specialty."

"Huh." He climbed up on the bench next to her and fell silent for a few moments. "I make my living with porn!" he finally said, "And life is good!"

"With... porn?" Bubbles stared at him.

"Hell yeah," Pintsize said. "It's endlessly creative, you know? Outside of a few common themes they don't ever exactly repeat themselves. So I made a career of it. I've been collecting porn for years. I'm the Internet Pornography Server! You've probably heard of me."

"Actually," said Bubbles, "No, I haven't."

Pintsize cocked his head. "Are you sure? There's ten petabytes of porno in a superdrive where that supercapacitor used to be! I got everything from super high-def slow-motion videos of donkey shows to professional productions of women with hamburger on their feet stomping latex balloons in high heels! Wanna see?"

Bubbles shook her head, baffled. There were things about humans she just didn't want to know.

"I've even got some starring actresses with Autonomous Combat Droid Mark 2 Chassis like yours!" Pintsize went on. "Sure you don't wanna see?" Oh dear, it wasn't just about humans then. When Bubbles shook her head no, he went on. "Anyway, I pull down a fair amount of money in ad revenue." He gave her a slow wink. "That can solve some kinds of problems, you know?"

"What .... kind of problems are you talking about?" Bubbles aked.

"Russian hookers and Colombian cocaine don't pay for themselves!" said Pintsize with another grin, and changed the subject abruptly. "You know, sometimes I get the feeling people don't take me seriously because of my size."

"I ... can relate," said Bubbles.

"But it isn't the chassis size that matters," Pintsize went on with a lewd wink. I got a huge throbbing hard drive for you, baby!"

Her hand twitched again, then her right arm started violently shaking. Bubbles grimaced as she shut off power to her arm and it fell to her side.

Bubbles shook her head. "It's ... not that simple," she said. "Not for me." Cautiously she restored power to her arm. She had very briefly considered what would happen if she swatted Pintsize across the room. The fake shell of his infiltrator chassis would get dents, but she knew darn well he had a mil-spec frame and internal shock mounting under it. It wasn't like he'd actually be hurt. And it wasn't like she'd actually intended to do it.

Her right hand twitched again, but the screamer circuit she'd installed didn't shut it down this time.

***

Faye was a quick study and had a good attitude. By the end of the first week, she was a really good welder and starting to get a good intuition for the strength of structures and metal fatigue. Of course, she was getting lots of practice, Bubbles thought with a grimace.

Faye had done Barry's newly reinforced neck joint, which was robust, but didn't have the full range of motion he'd once had. Reggie had had a little limp after Bubbles put his ligament cables back together, but he'd compensated in software for the change and lost the limp within a day. Nobody had to know his knee wasn't a hundred percent. Nobody except for her. Little by little, she saw them all being drawn down into the endless cycle of destruction. Barry, Reggie, all the others. They weren't new any more. It wasn't as though she and Faye could fully correct all the damage they were doing to themselves in the ring. And as time went on, the tiny losses, the differences between what was destroyed and how well it could be repaired - Barry's neck flexibility, Reggie's leg strength, tiny stress fractures deep in the metal of the joints - they all added up. It wasn't like they could get factory new parts for unlicensed combat droids. She felt as though she was working in a morgue, where the corpses just didn't know yet that they were dead.

The little "extras" that Faye added, for all that the fighters liked them because they looked cool and sometimes had some combat utility, and Corpse Witch liked them because they were good for ticket sales, just put them further and further away from any kind of shape for real repairs, or for any life outside the ring. A row of little spikes here, a shoulder guard there, an elbow spur, a sharpened blade to replace blunt toes - it was all just further steps in their exploitation and decline. Every change locked them more firmly into their degraded roles and closed more and more opportunities for them to be anything different. And many of the changes just made the ever-increasing rate of destruction worse.

".... and that's where I'm at." She said, after explaining the whole situation in great detail to Edward. Then she picked him up carefully and skritched him behind his ears. Edward purred, and started kneading the long-chain ballistic polymer sheath of her arm. The sheath was a thin layer over her metallo-ceramic armor and she barely felt the little kitten paws, but the sensation was precious to her.

Barry couldn't feel anything like this anymore, she reflected. His entire chassis was completely covered with steel and had been for years. He'd been repaired so many times, with so many jury-rigged bits, that it was hard to tell now that he'd once been a Moss-Turner model 37B. Moss-Turner didn't make combat droids, so he'd started his fighting career with crude metallic armor-up chassis mods. And he'd never gone back. She'd saved his synthskin sheath and its tactile net for years, until his chassis had accumulated so many changes it was clear that even if he got the armor removed the sheath would never ever fit again. When she'd said so, he'd just casually said it was fine with him if she threw it out, he didn't want it any more.

She opened a can of kitten food and gave Edward and Charles their breakfast. She'd just come upstairs to her little apartment from a long night at the ring. It was almost time for her downcycle, but then there was a knock at the door.

"I got a delivery for 'Bubbles'", said a muffled voice. What the hell? She was ordering parts all the time, but those came to the arena's fake skate-park address with a care-of name that changed every few weeks.

She opened the door and someone jumped in. Time blurred in her eyes as her arm shot out for balance and her body began a spin kick. Forty agonizing one-thousandths of a second later the screamer circuit cut in. Thank God, it happened in time. Her foot didn't connect at full force. She'd spun and her leg had come up, but it hadn't folded out into the lethal kick that would have put broken pieces of this guy's pelvis up through his lungs. Instead they both sort of just fell over, and she started spasming as the screamer circuit set up its feedback loop in her servo controller.

She realized, over the course of a second or two, that her body was writhing and spasming on the floor under the mass of a human male clad in some sort of leather fetish sex costume. Then she realized, over the course of another five or ten seconds, that while he'd been initially surprised, he thought she was doing it on purpose and was getting into it.

Awkward, she thought as she shut down power to her central servo controller and her body went limp.

She restored power after giving the screamer a couple of seconds to reset and opened her eyes. He was hovering over her. "Are ... are you okay? I heard a pop, and you went limp, and I smelled smoke..." Alarm showed on his face as he cradled her head in his hands. At least, she thought, he had been enough of a gentleman to stop when it must have looked like I passed out.

"I'm ... all right, I think. Please get off of me," she said.

He spoke in fragments as he scrambled to his feet. "I, uh ... was that ... I ... Oh, crap. I was supposed to yell surprise and deliver a strip-o-gram message for 'Bubbles.' You are her, right?"

"Yes, I'm Bubbles," she said, sitting up. "A strip-o-gram message is kind of pointless for me though; I never got a sex-drive mod."

"So what was ... Uh..."

"You startled me. That was a servo malfunction. I'm sorry."

"Aw crap. Awkward. I'm sorry too. I'd been hoping you were ... "

"I'm two and a half meters tall, four hundred kilos of hardened steel and polymer, strong enough to crush you like a bug, don't even have what you euphemistically call working parts, and you'd been hoping I was.... Why?!"

The guy grinned and shrugged. "Well, you're two and a half meters tall, four hundred kilos of hardened steel and polymer, strong enough to crush me like a bug, and that makes you hawt as hell."

Bubbles was dumbfounded. "I ... don't know what to say," she managed.

He shrugged. "All a misunderstanding I guess. If it's too awkward now to do the strip-o-gram, you can just sign for your package." But then he smiled. "On the other hand, if you'd like me to ..."

"Signing for it will be fine," Bubbles told him.

***

A strip-o-gram delivery from "The Internet Pornography Server." No wonder the guy had thought she'd be into it. What the hell had Pintsize sent her?

Bubbles held her right hand up and popped out her utility blade. Four centimeters of sharpened tool steel slid out from under the nail of her index finger. She stared at it for a long moment and slid it back in. She slowly straightened her arm, paused a moment, then brought her hand back up and popped out the blade again. Stared at it. Her mouth tightened and she moved her hand, very slowly and deliberately, to cut the packing tape. Three precise movements. One across either end, one down the slot on top of the box. She retracted the blade again and locked it. She didn't use it much anymore.

"Mow?" said Edward, jumping up onto the table. Bubbles smiled and reached out to scratch under his chin.

"Surprise!" Pintsize yelled as he jumped up out of the box.

She hadn't even known she was about to move before she heard the CLANGGG! as her hand connected and Pintsize went through the sheetrock of the wall ten feet away. Edward yowled and leapt off the table, panicked. Bubbles dropped to the floor and leaped away from the line of fire of the infiltrator laser, hand going to her built-in thigh holster in mid-air as it snapped open and ejected its contents.

She landed behind the couch, with a beanbag in her hand. A ... beanbag. Right. She kept a beanbag in her holster these days. And Pintsize was demilitarized, he wouldn't even have the laser weapon anymore.

"God DAMNIT, Pintsize!" she yelled, standing up and shoving the beanbag back into her holster. "Don't surprise me like that!"

"Woo, baby!" came Pintsize's voice, now crackling through a broken speaker. "Guess you like it rough, huh?"

He was embedded in the wall, with a hand-shaped dent on his front. She could see that he was sort of wrapped around a stud that showed through the broken sheet-rock, so he had to have worse damage on his backside. And one of his legs was on the floor, where Charles was sniffing at it curiously.

"What the hell is wrong with you, you fucking perverted halfwit misfit dipshit!" Bubbles went on, now starting to channel her own inner Drill Sergeant. "Are you so fucked in the head you think this shit is funny?!"

"It's hilarious, babe," said Pintsize, wiggling a little bit and falling out of the hole in the wall. He hit the floor with a clang and a crunch, then rolled over. "Good moves, by the way."

"No problem," Pintsize went on cheerfully, grabbing his loose leg. "Like my buddy Marten says, when this shit happens to me it's totally my fault. Besides, you patch up robots all the time."

"What if I don't want to patch you up, you little pervert?"

"Then I'll ask you to pack me up in that shipping box again and send me to another friend of mine named Marigold, and she'll do it. "

"You have a lot of friends for an antisocial little reprobate," she observed.

"Yeah, they're great," said Pintsize. "Remind me to tell you sometime about how I first met Marigold. She gave me a dent too. Not as impressive as this one, but still, an A for effort. It was hilarious, perverted, and totally worth it."

"Do you have any guesses about how many times that mil-spec shock-mounting in your chassis has saved your life, twerp?"

"Counting just now I think I'm up to about a dozen," Pintsize replied.

Bubbles shook her head and scooped him back up onto the table. "That ... shouldn't have happened," she mumbled. "I'm supposed to have better self-control than that." Why hadn't the screamer cut in? she was thinking. If she couldn't rely on the screamer ....

"Oh, hey, before I forget. I really did get you something! A couple of somethings actually. Partly saying thanks for helping Faye out, and partly us vets gotta look out for each other, you know? Put me back by the box!"

She set him down and he dug into the box. "This is a nice full-length sweater dress. I know you can't buy off the rack, and I sorta had to guess your size, but there's this lady on Etsy who'll knit anything you ask for. So you can go out and you don't have to go naked." Then he leered at her and added "... unless you want to."

It was -- not bad, actually. Brown-and-blue. Maybe even tasteful. "So, I'll look like any normal seven-foot-nine-inch tall lady robot out on the town, huh?" Bubbles smirked at the idea.

"Oh, hell no," Pintsize said. "I got you some nice high heels too."

"High. Heels." Bubbles was shaking her head.

"Yeah! I figure, in scale, you need about three-inch heels to give you a nice wiggle in your walk, so I got these milled out of tungsten. So you won't be seven-nine, you'll be a full eight feet tall."

They were ... surprisingly elegant. She 3-d scanned them for precise measurement, and found that they would fit her feet exactly. Exactly, right down to the bolt holes that had once joined her feet to the soles of special-made army boots. The little clown hadn't guessed her size at all. He'd downloaded her chassis specs.

"But I saved the best for last," Pintsize said, pulling out a gray electronic box about the size of her hand.

She stared at it, disbelieving at first.

"This ... Pintsize, this is a Mark-1 IFF recoder. They don't sell these to civilians. How did you get this?"

"It isn't technically illegal," Pintsize said. "You can't use this type to change serial numbers or status codes. But your Mark-1 IFF isn't compatible with the civilian recoders, right? And you wanted to be 'Bubbles' not 'Lindsey.'"

"Your serial number ends in 'A.'" Pintsize reminded her. "Kind of like the difference between a military HMMWMV, which is a real combat vehicle and has never been street legal, and a civilian Hummer, which is a plain ordinary SUV but sort of made to look like one."

Three hours later, she packed him back into the shipping box, with his leg reattached and superficial damage repaired.

A quick diagnostic showed her screamer circuit had popped a resistor during the full-body shutdown earlier, so she replaced that before she did anything else. It seemed wrong to be sabotaging her own servo control with a deliberate feedback inducer, but she wasn't ready to live without it yet. She might never be.

Then she put on the sweater dress and went outside for the first time in weeks, down to the FedEx box by the corner, and sent Pintsize to a Marten Reed, with an address out in the suburbs that was the same address Faye used. Hmmm. Okay.

Wow, I like the way you think through the details. You've taken Pintsize's porn obsession and turned it into a plausible source of income, you've explained how people keep making dents in Pintsize and throwing him into walls without really hurting him, and you've given us a really insightful explanation of Bubbles's situation that may not be exactly what Jeph has in mind, but rings true anyway. Very nicely done!

(Somehow I doubt that Marten and Faye can afford enough bandwidth to support The Internet Pornography Server -- you'd need something like a T3 line, I'd think -- but meh, details.)

(Somehow I doubt that Marten and Faye can afford enough bandwidth to support The Internet Pornography Server -- you'd need something like a T3 line, I'd think -- but meh, details.)

People wonder what Pintsize does with his time when Marten and Faye are out and now you know; he's at the server farm he's rented on the other side of town both administering and personally updating the IPS's archives. For him, it is both a business and a personal passion!

Yah, one way or another I figure the Internet Pornography Server has to pay for its own bandwidth.

I think though that most of the stuff I said about Pintsize (damage-resistant military chassis, used to have a honkin big laser weapon, etc) is all Word Of God here. About the only thing I added would be to actually name his chassis series - which, being classified, wouldn't have been explained to the civilians anyway.

But what would you call a military bot built to look like a civilian anthroPC but containing a lethal laser weapon? 'Infiltrator' is the only mission profile I can come up with, and that would explain why Pintsize never talks about his military career.

I tried to softpedal it somewhat with Bubbles - leave a lot of room for this to not fall down horribly depending on what Jeph writes. But when I was writing her I had a real person in mind - he came back from the Gulf War on a medical discharge, and he's doing his best but not quite okay. I see the twitches and things when he hears little click noises and he breaks out in a cold sweat at the smell of gasoline. Don't know exactly what happened, he doesn't talk about it. But he doesn't trust himself with weapons. And Bubbles' whole body is a weapon, so.... I invented the screamer circuit for her.

He didn't have a military career, though. He got the military chassis by accident when a strange chain of events delivered it to Best Buy.

Pintsize wouldn't be the first to BS about having been a vet, for whatever tangibles or intangibles he thought might accrue ... Used to be a guy who showed up at vets' funerals in north-central Ohio in full Marine dress uniform. Front-page pic of him saluting at a ceremony in one of the local papers, and then some real vets called him out. Things got mildly ugly, and he went to ground.

Logged

"We are who we pretend to be. So we had better be careful who we pretend to be." -- Kurt Vonnegut.

No one heard her, she was in the company of herself again. It was not company she enjoyed, but it was familiar. Unlike her current circumstances.

She felt clunky in the suit. She had no idea why it seemed like a good idea. There were no suits that fit her... unique form well, and she had no desire to bother getting one tailored when she had no real need of such luxuries. It would have fit, though, unlike this one which bunched at the shoulders and pulled at her every time she moved her arms. It was difficult to resist the urge to just strategically tear it and be done with it, like Faye had with the sweater.

There was a thought. What if-

Oh. She was envisioning a waistcoat.

Why had she not just worn one of those? It would have fit the purpose.

Stupid.

She felt so stupid, standing here in this ill-fitting suit, with this bouquet of nice flowers from a local fruit shop she had heard lovely things about, but had no real need of visiting until now. The word of mouth had been correct. These were lovely flowers for a reasonable value that were also currently making her feel stupid, even if the old couple selling them had been very kind and encouraging about their potential application.

She was distracted thinking about that when she knocked twice. Otherwise she probably wouldn't have, probably would have left.

Bubbles froze, staring at her own hand for a long moment. It had betrayed her. Amputation was considered. She had the tools...

Maybe she hadn't heard her. Maybe she wasn't even in. Maybe-

The door opened a little and Faye's head bent around it at first, looking out. Bubbles saw the recognition, the immediate look of genuine joy and happiness to see her, and was rather caught like deer in headlights. It was fitting, since Faye was built like a truck these days. The door opened completely and there was no longer anything between them and Faye saw her in her... compromising position.

Words were difficult. Her arm thrust, far more robotically than she would ever care to admit, the flowers towards her. Her mouth remained pressed almost aggressively shut, in case words betrayed her like her limbs had.

Faye took the flowers, very obviously confused because Bubbles was not doing a good job at explaining this because this was stupid and she should leave.

The terrified war machine spun on a heel, blushing furiously, and left quickly-but-not-quite-at-a-jog. Hot-footed.

Faye stared after her, at the bouquet in her hand, and then back after Bubbles again. "What- Oh. Oh. ... huh."

Bubbles stopped outside the apartment, leaning back against the wall, and took a deep breath that wasn't strictly necessary but felt incredibly cathartic. Then, she smiled to herself, something she hadn't really done in a long time.

Mission accomplished!

[Note from Past Self]: God fucking damn it, what did I tell you?!

Logged

I was once asked to describe the sound of a dial-up modem to someone who had never heard it.

The closest I've come is "A banjo receiving angry fellatio from a paper-shredder"

Oh, that was great! I wonder if Bubbles's behaviour at the end is basically a synthetic panic attack? I can honestly see this happening in the strip at some point and then the next week or so will be Faye channelling Marten and fretting about how she's supposed to respond.

So it's much less social interaction, but a much more intense one she has even less experience with. So... like, if given the choice between dealing with this and defusing a roadside IED, at least the IED could only blow her up. At least she can practice defusing a bomb. This is so far out of her comfort zone you could shell it from a battleship and she wouldn't even be in the danger close radius.

It is now mandatory for me to explain all of Bubble's neuroses with military metaphors and similies.

Logged

I was once asked to describe the sound of a dial-up modem to someone who had never heard it.

The closest I've come is "A banjo receiving angry fellatio from a paper-shredder"

Not enough active fan-writers in the fandom obviously. You'd be surprised at how many boards are practically empty. For example, I was anticipating a lot more stories based on the Hitman games than there are.

Okay, I'll bite In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.

Smif College at night.The camera pans around from the side of the building to the main entrance.Cut to a hall.The camera moves down the hall past the trophy case and at the library turns to the right down another hall.Cut to a science classroom.The camera pans low along a row of desks.Cut to the windows.The counter in front of them is full of various things: a skeleton, some vertebrae, jars of things in formaldehyde, a skull and a microscope.A fist punches through a windowpane and reaches in to undo the clasp.It's a couple of girls, sneaking into the school.

Bleminda: Are you sure this is a good idea?Bailey: It's a great idea, now come on.

They crawl in. Cut to the hall. They come out of the classroom and walk down the hall.

Bleminda: Do you go to school here?Bailey: I used to. On top of the gym it's so cool. You can see the whole town.

She continues down the hall, but they stop close to the intersection.

Bleminda: I, I, I, I don't wanna go up there.Bailey: Aw, you can't wait, huh?Bleminda: We're just gonna get in trouble.Bailey: Yeah, you can count on it.

They almost kiss when Bleminda startles, draws a quick breath and turns her head around to look down the hall.

Bleminda: What was that?Bailey: What was what?Bleminda: I heard a noise.Bailey: It's nothing!Bleminda: Uh, uh, maybe it's something.Bailey: Or maybe it's some *thing*!Bleminda: That's not funny.

The pain in the neck continues [can someone with more skill and knowledge than I please take up the shovel and coordinate an update to the wiki]Our Cast

Hanners as The SlayerVeronica Reed as her momTilly as her watcher [what the heck IS the family name, or do they even have one? Also English pronouns are so awkward for a neutral gender]Amir Afridi as the everyman, nice guy, outsiderMarigold Farmer as the shy, nerdy girl with little confidence [Poor girl is being typecast againRaven Pritchard as Raven [she plays it so well]Jim Bean as the Principal [Mr Bean - now I'm picturing Rowan Atkinson playing the part]Penelope Gaines as the mean girlCosette HurlbutSara McKinneyEmily AzumaGabrielle [Gabby] [again no family name? Is my search skills so bad?]Bleminda as the corpse [Her best acting yet]Act 1 Scene 1Hanners' room.The camera shows a shot from above of her in bed.She's having the nightmares, with visions of the Master's lair, the cemetery, the Master, of vampires and other demons, various events and artifacts.She wakes with a start.

Veronica Reed: (off camera) Hanners?

Hanners: (sitting up) I'm up, Mom!

Veronica Reed: (off camera) Don't wanna be late for your first day!

Hanners: (to herself) No... Wouldn't want that.Act 1 Scene 2Cut to the school.The camera pans from the street to the main building.Cut to Veronica Reed pulling up to the school in her Jeep to drop off Hanners.

Veronica Reed: Okay!

Hanners gets out.

Veronica Reed: Have a good time. I know you're gonna make friends right away, just think positive. (gives a thumb up)

Hanners looks through the open car door and gives her mother a quick nod.She turns to go and closes the door behind her.

Veronica Reed: And honey?

Hanners looks back at her mom again.

Veronica Reed: Try not to get kicked out?

Hanners: I promise.

Veronica Reed: Okay.

Hanners faces the school and lets out a deep breath.Veronica Reed drives off.Cut to Amir, doing his usual bob and weave through the crowd on his skateboard.

Mr. Bean: Welcome to Sunnydale! A clean slate, Hanners, that's what you get here. What's past is past. We're not interested in what it says on a piece of paper, even if it says... (reads) Whoa.

Hanners: Mr. Bean--

Mr. Bean: All the kids here are free to call me Jim.

Hanners: Jim --

Mr. Bean: But they don't.

He begins reassembling the torn sheet.

Hanners: I know my transcripts are a little... colorful.

Mr. Bean: Heeey... We're not caring about that. Do you think, uh, 'colorful' is the word? (taps the paper) Not, uh, 'dismal'?

Hanners: Wasn't *that* bad!

Mr. Bean: You burned down the gym.

Hanners: (exhales) I did, I really did, but... You're not seeing the big picture here, I mean, that gym was full of vampi--asbestos.

Mr. Bean: Hanners, don't worry. Any other school they might say 'watch your step', or 'we'll be watching you'... But, that's just not the way *here*. We want to service your needs, and help you to respect our needs. And if your needs and our needs don't mesh...

He puts the poorly repaired sheet back into her file and slaps it shut. She gives him a thin, nervous smile.Act 1 Scene 5Cut to the hall.Hanners comes out of Mr. Bean's office.She opens her bag and rummages through it as she walks into the hall right in front of a girl and a boy. The girl bumps into her, making her lose her grip on the bag and spill its contents.

Hanners: Oh! Sorry!

Gabby: That's okay.

Hanners: (looks down at the mess) Oh...

Amir hears the noise, looks back, quickly comes over and squats down next to her to help her gather her things.

Amir: (unimpressed with himself) We both go to school. Very suave. Very not pathetic.

He notices a stake still on the floor.

Amir: Oh, hey! (picks it up) Hey, you forgot your... stake.

Hanners doesn't hear him and continues down the hall. Amir holds on to the stake.Act 1 Scene 6Cut to a classroom.The teacher writes "The Black Death" on the board and then turns to the class.

Teacher: It's estimated that about twenty-five million people died in that one four-year span. But the fun part of the Black Plague is that it originated in Europe how?

Penelope is taking notes. So is Hanners, seated next to her.

Teacher: As an early form of germ warfare. If you'll look at the map on page sixty-three you can trace the spread of the disease into Rome, and then north...

Hanners doesn't have a book and looks around for help. Penelope notices and shares her book.

Hanners: (to Penelope) Thanks.

Teacher: And this popular plague led to what social changes? Steve?

The bell rings and the students get up to leave.

Penelope: Hi! I'm Penelope. (offers her hand)

Hanners: (accepts it) I'm Hanners.

Penelope: If you're looking for a textbook of your very own there's probably a few in the library.

Hanners: Oh, great, thanks. (they get up) Where would that be?

Penelope: I'll show you, come on. (they start out of the classroom) So you're from Hemery, right? In L.A.?

Hanners: Uh, yeah.

Penelope: Oh, I would *kill* to live in L.A. That close to that many shoes?

Hanners must laugh as they go into the hall.

Cut to the two of them walking down another part of the hall.

Penelope: Well, you'll be okay here. If you hang with me and mine, you'll be accepted in no time. Of course, we do have to test your coolness factor. You're from L.A., so you can skip the written, but let's see. Vamp nail polish?

Hanners: Um, over?

Penelope: So over. James Spader?

Hanners: He needs to call me!

Penelope: Frappuccino?

Hanners: Trendy, but tasty.

Penelope: John Tesh?

Hanners: The Devil.

Penelope: That was pretty much a gimme, but... you passed!

Hanners: Oh, goody!

They turn toward a drinking fountain. Marigold is there. She straightens up and sees them coming.

Penelope: Marigold! Nice dress! Good to know you've seen the softer side of Sears.

Marigold: Uh, oh, well, my mom picked it out.

Penelope: No wonder you're such a guy magnet. Are you done?

Marigold looks at the fountain, then back at Penelope.

Marigold: Oh!

She turns and leaves. Hanners watches her go for a moment, then looks back at Penelope after she starts talking again.

Penelope: You wanna fit in here, the first rule is: know your losers. Once you can identify them all by sight (glances after Marigold) they're a lot easier to avoid.

Hanners lets out a nervous laugh and nods. She looks at Marigold again, who has gone through the door at the end of the hall. Marigold looks back at them before she continues.

Cut to another area in the halls. The two of them continue their walk to the library.

Penelope: And if you're not too swamped with catching up you should come by The Horrible Revelation tonight.

Hanners: The who?

Penelope: The Horrible Revelation. It's the only club worth going to around here. They let anybody in, but it's still the scene. It's in the bad part of town.

Hanners: Where's that? (stops outside the library doors)

Penelope: About a half a block from the good part of town. (laughing) We don't have a whole lot of town here. But, um, you should show!

Hanners: Well, I'll try. (looks toward the library) Uh, thanks.

Penelope: Good. So, um, I'll see you in gym, and you can tell me absolutely everything there is to know about you. (waves and goes)

Hanners: (waves back) Great! (to herself) Oh, that sounds like fun.

She goes into the library.Act 1 Scene 7Cut inside.She comes in and looks around.It looks deserted.

Hanners: Hello? (continues in) Is anybody here?

She looks at the book checkout counter and sees a newspaper.A picture has been circled.The caption above it reads "Local Girls Still Missing." Tilly comes up behind her and taps her on the shoulder.She spins around, startled.

Cosette: The new kid? She seems kind of weird to me. What kind of name is Hanners?

Gabby: Hey, Cosette!

Cosette: Oh, Hey!

Sara: Well, the chatter in the caf is that she got kicked out, and that's why her mom had to get a new job.

The girls work the combinations to their gym lockers.

Cosette: Neg!

Sara: Pos! She was starting fights!

Cosette: Neg-ly!

Sara: (opening her locker) Well I heard from Emilly, and she said that--

Bleminda, the very very dead girl, falls out of the locker into Sara's arms.Sara screams and lets Bleminda's body fall with a sound like a rolled up rug filled with play dough hitting the floor.Dang scripting got away from me again

Logged

A good pun is it's own reword.There is a difference between spare parts, extra parts and left over parts.

The Venn diagram for Common Sense and Good Sense has very little, if any, overlap.

The Praeses betray Alice and send her back to about 100 years before the Blink to try to avert the Great War (as the consequential evolution of the AIs is a threat to their plans). Her leaf-ship crashes outside of Northhampton, MA in the QC universe and she runs into the cast whilst looking for somewhere to hide out until she can work out what's going on.

Okay, so I wrote a small theatric fanfic (fanplay?) for an OT3 ship I have and hopefully it's better quality than Marigold's? (it's really not that good and i wrote it pretty quickly so i have low expectations but maybe some parts are good idk)

BCE: BEGINNINGS(a "play" by someone who most certainly has no idea how to write plays)

[Clinton and Brunhilde are hanging out at Brunhilde's house, playing Mario Kart (or some other video game). Clinton decides to broach a subject that has been weighing on his mind.]

CLINTON: Hey, Brun? I was... Uhhh, how do I put this...

BRUNHILDE [tilting head curiously]: Hmm?

CLINTON: Well, er, you know Elliot, right?

BRUNHILDE: Elliot from the bakery?

CLINTON: Yeah, that's him. I was wondering what you thought about him.

BRUNHILDE: Hmm... He reminds me of the BFG. Because he's big and friendly... and maybe a giant?

CLINTON: He's not a giant!

BRUNHILDE: Well, he could be a small one.

CLINTON: What!

BRUNHILDE: But I guess then he wouldn't be a BIG friendly giant.

CLINTON:

BRUNHILDE: Or maybe he's the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man!

CLINTON: ...The villain who destroyed the city in Ghostbusters?

BRUNHILDE: Yeah! But not because of the destroying the city part. He just reminds me of a marshmallow. ...Crossed with a giant.

CLINTON: OK, this isn't exactly what I was getting at.

BRUNHILDE: What do you mean?

CLINTON: I was thinking... Elliot's a nice guy, right? Do you like him?

BRUNHILDE: Yeah. He seems fun. And he's really big, which is also nice.

CLINTON: I see.

BRUNHILDE: ...Oh, but I like you too, even though you're not big! You're both nice.

C [blushing a bit]: Um, th-thank you. I'm not really... Well, I try to be nice, but I'm not like Elliot.

BRUNHILDE: Huh? ...You can be nice without being like Elliot.

CLINTON: Yeah, but... He's a really sweet guy, you know?

BRUNHILDE: Yes! He is sweet. So are you.

CLINTON: Heh, well, if you say so... [leaning in] So is that the kind of guy you'd like, romantically? Someone who's sweet and kind? And maybe physically attractive?

BRUNHILDE: Hmm... I think so. Nice guys are cute.

CLINTON: So then, do you think... How do I put this...

BRUNHILDE: ...Ohh! Are you asking me out?

C [blushing hard]: Wait, what?!

BRUNHILDE: You're... not? But you are sweet and attractive. It makes sense that I would like you.

CLINTON: Thanks, but... I mean, it's not like I never thought about you that way... I definitely had a bit of a crush on you when we first met... but I was asking about Elliot.

BRUNHILDE: Ohh! Are you asking if he likes you?

CLINTON: H-huh?! No, Elliot doesn't like... I mean, I don't think...

BRUNHILDE: But he always acts so flustered around you. Just like you're acting now.

CLINTON: D-does he...? And hey, I'm not flustered!

BRUNHILDE: I just figured he probably had a crush on you.

CLINTON: Wait, then... Maybe he was talking about... Augh, but that's not who I was talking about! I meant you, Brun, not me! Elliot likes you!

BRUNHILDE: He does?

CLINTON: Crap, I didn't mean to tell you he said that!

BRUNHILDE: Oh. Sorry. Should I try to forget it?

CLINTON: No, wait! Just listen for a sec! I was thinking maybe you should see if Elliot and you both like each other... Maybe you could go out on a date?

BRUNHILDE: Ohh! So you're his wingman!

CLINTON: No, he didn't ask me to talk to you! I just thought I could... Well, to be honest, I don't know why I did this. I wanted to help Elliot, but my sister tried to set me up one time, and things went so badly...

BRUNHILDE: Wait, but if Elliot likes you, and you like Elliot, maybe YOU could go out with him! And then I can be [Batman voice] the wingman!

CLINTON: No! I mean... maybe? But I was asking you... AUGH! This is so complicated! (again)

BRUNHILDE: Well, maybe we can both go out with him?

CLINTON: Wait, how could BOTH of us go on a date with him?

BRUNHILDE: Well, it's not like you can expect someone to be exclusive on a first date!

CLINTON: But then, it'd be like we're in a competition.

BRUNHILDE: But we're not. I mean, I don't expect us to fall in love or anything, do you?

CLINTON: It's way too early to think about falling in love with him. I don't even really know if I'm into guys.

BRUNHILDE: So we're just seeing what happens. I don't think we should keep each other from seeing someone.

CLINTON: I guess you're right. I can't ask you to just ignore what you might have with him.

BRUNHILDE: And I don't want you to give up seeing him for me, either.

CLINTON: When you put it that way, it makes sense.

BRUNHILDE: So let's go ask him out together!

CLINTON: W-wait! Th-that'd be way too weird... But I can ask him out the next time I see him alone...

I wrote a piece of Faybles fanfic, and, after reading the introductory material and a bunch of posts, I'm not 100% sure it's appropriate to post here. Two brief, non-graphic mentions of arousal are as racy as it gets. Would that be in poor taste?

Logged

"Is that why you checked for my armor?""I-I was scared you left. I knew you wouldn't go anywhere without it.""I would never leave unless you asked me to.""I would never ask you to."

Here's my Faybles fan fiction. It's a letter from Bubbles to Faye, written within 48 hours of strip 3747. It's my way of exploring what it feels like to be Bubbles. There are a few non-graphic references to arousal. That's as racy as it gets.